


...Tease and Taste

by TwistedAmusement13



Series: A Safe Place To... [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Come Swallowing, Courtship, Deep Throating, Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Werecat Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedAmusement13/pseuds/TwistedAmusement13
Summary: Stiles just wants to take the next step in their relationship.----Fluff and a little smut :)
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Safe Place To... [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1231160
Comments: 49
Kudos: 842





	...Tease and Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [...Tease and Taste (Traducción)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516539) by [lbp98l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbp98l/pseuds/lbp98l)



> Beta'd by the lovely Kr15xxx. Thank you so much for your help on this one :)

See, the thing is, Stiles knows this is all his fault. Peter is only doing what he’d asked. So when the wolf pulls away, both of them panting, and Stiles loses the little bit of friction he had on his dick he knows he’s entirely to blame for his own groan of frustration. Peter is being a complete gentleman, and originally that’s what Stiles wanted, he wanted to take things slow. But now, now after almost four months, he’s regretting his decision.

“Sorry darling,” Peter says, still a little breathless, “but we should probably stop.”

And Stiles gets it, he does, Peter is being reasonable and responsible and listening to Stiles’ words and not taking advantage of the situation. But, in all honesty, in this moment, Stiles couldn’t give a fuck less.

So he does something he’s never done before, grabbing the back of Peter’s head and hauling him down and into another heated kiss, and if he had to use a bit of his supernatural strength to do so, well, he’s got _needs_ dammit. Peter goes, more than happy to continue it seems, and Stiles thinks that this might be the time he’s _finally_ able to get off.

He doesn’t even care if that means coming in his pants while making out with his boyfriend on the couch. He’s down, he wants this, he wants to come so bad he can practically feel his individual nerves as they’re stimulated by Peter’s weight grinding and bearing down on him.

But right before he’s about to come, Peter pulls away again, sitting up a little more fully and pulling himself farther out of Stiles’ reach and Stiles whines high in the back of his throat, needy and petulant, until it turns into a slight growl of dissatisfaction.

“Why,” he gets out, barely able to form words.

“We said we’d take this slow sweetheart, I don’t want to rush you or pressure you,” Peter says evenly, and Stiles can't hold back the glare at the man’s ability to be so fucking level-headed and coherent right now.

He _knows_ Peter is just as turned on as him. Even if he couldn’t feel the wolf’s hardness against his own, he can smell it. The lust and arousal, such a swirling cocktail in the air, matching Stiles’ own, and he just. He pulls at his hair, using pain as a focusing agent, trying to clear the fog in his brain so that maybe they could talk about this. Like adults. That’s a thing people do in a relationship, right? Not that Stiles has anything to compare it to, but still.

Stiles knows what he said, but there has to be a way to revise that statement, come to a new agreement so that, hopefully, Stiles can finally have a fucking orgasm not delivered by his own hand. Stiles would really like to come sometime before the end of the fucking year.

“Okay,” he says as he sits up, not so subtly having to readjust himself in his pants to make himself more comfortable. He rubs the back of his neck, and lets out a sigh. “Okay.”

Peter is just watching him, waiting it seems, for Stiles to figure out what will happen next. It’s sweet, the way he lets Stiles dictate interactions like this, even if most of the time Stiles doesn’t have a clue what he’s really doing and is occasionally winging it.

Some needy, slightly rejected part of him is pushing to the front of his conscious thought and overtaking his brain, and before he can make a rational argument, before he can plead his case like a damn _adult_ , he’s blurting out, “why do you keep stopping, don’t you want me?”

And fuck, Stiles knows that isn’t the truth, well, most of him knows. But he can't help but to feel slightly insecure. Peter is gorgeous, thick and built and powerful without even really trying, and that’s only scratching the surface. He’s protective and amazing and takes such good care of Stiles, he doesn’t want for anything as long as Peter is around. And he knows, knows that Peter is respecting his wishes, but he can’t completely silence that voice that venomously whispers in his head that Peter doesn’t want him like that, that he never will. That he’ll find someone better, more worthy of his time and then Stiles will be left with nothing.

So it comes out before he can stop it and Peter looks worried and concerned and slightly hurt, scooting closer to Stiles on the couch and grabbing a hold of his hands.

“Nonsense, sweetheart. You _know_ that isn’t the case. I do want you, so very much so, and it tests my control every time I have to pull back, because, honestly, I want to ravage you.” Peter declares, a slight growl lacing his words as he finishes.

Stiles’ heart rate spikes. The reassurance is what he needed, but it still doesn’t stop the petulant, “then why don’t you?”

Peter’s eyes flare electric blue and Stiles can see a hint of fang before Peter is able to take a deep breath and get himself back under control.

“You asked that we take this slow, and I don’t want to go against what we’ve agreed upon.” Peter says when he is able to.

“I know, I _know_ I did. And at the time I did, but now, now I want to come so bad it aches. Can't we touch, more? It’s been months, Peter,” Stiles can't help the slight whine in his voice; “I just want to do more, take the next step or two. Can we do that?”

Peter groans, and pulls Stiles to his chest, the wolf burying his head in Stiles’ neck and breathing in deeply. Stiles’ pulse is racing and he shifts, allowing Peter to pull him even closer, until he’s straddling Peter’s thick thighs. He doesn’t move aside from that, Peter’s hands hot and firm at his waist, holding him in place.

“I want to,” Peter rasps, low and guttural in Stiles’ ear, “gods, I want to.”

“Please Peter,” Stiles isn’t above begging, not at this point.

Stiles feels a slight nip at his neck and he can't help the small moan that escapes at the action.

“Shh,” Peter is soothing him, “we still need to talk about this.”

Stiles groans, and huffs slightly in frustration, pulling back a bit so he can look at Peter’s face. “What more do we need to talk about? I want more, please, Peter. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you. I want my mouth and hands on you and yours on me. Can’t we? We’ve been good, we’ve taken it slow and you have been such a gentleman. Isn’t it time to reward our patience?”

Peter is looking at him heatedly as he talks, his eyes glowing and half lidded, watching Stiles’ mouth intently. He’s nodding slightly but at the last second seems to sober, his eyes snapping up to Stiles’.

He brings a hand up, running his knuckles along Stiles’ cheek, caressing his face and then cupping his chin. “I don’t want to fuck this up sweetheart. I don’t want to pressure you and make you regret anything that we do. I know we’re worked up now, but I don’t want anything we do to be a mistake.”

Stiles leans down just slightly, giving Peter a chaste kiss. He lets his forehead rest against Peter’s, their eyes closed.

“It wouldn’t be,” he promises. “Peter, I care about you so much. You are so good to me. And I fall more in love with you every day we’re together. I couldn’t imagine our lives separately, and I don’t ever want to. I want to be with you forever if I can.” It’s the truth, even if he hadn’t expressed it so fully before.

“And I want to be with you too, sweetheart.” Peter agrees, tilting his face up just a bit so their lips meet.

“So if we both agree, can we do more?” Stiles whispers, laying tiny kisses along the side of Peter’s face until he gets to his ear, “I really want to taste you.” He says just loud enough for Peter to hear, “I really want you to show me what you like.”

Peter’s chest is vibrating underneath Stiles’, a growl rumbling within, he can feel the press of claws through his shirt at his hips. He rolls his hips just a little to create friction, digging his teeth in the side of Peter’s neck to keep back his own moan.

“Please Peter,” he pleads into the skin and muscle underneath his tongue.

Stiles goes to roll his hips again but Peter has a firm grip on him, “you little tease,” Peter counters, biting and sucking his own mark into Stiles’ neck.

He snakes his hands between them, tugging at the button and zip of Peter’s pants, wondering if Peter is going to let him or put a stop to this once and for all tonight. He gets them undone and wiggles a hand inside and immediately touches hair and heated flesh, his own groan matched by one of Peter’s.

He’s hurrying to try and release Peter’s dick from the pant’s restrictions but Peter rests a hand on his wrist, “slow,” he tells him and Stiles nods into his neck, moving his forehead to rest on Peter’s shoulder so he can see between the press of their bodies. Peter firmly latched on to his neck, biting, licking, sucking marks into pale skin only for them to disappear because _fuck_ if Stiles can focus on holding back his healing.

When he pulls Peter’s cock out enough for him to see it’s hard and flushed a deep red, wet and leaking at the tip and his mouth waters at the sight. It’s silky smooth in his hand when he gives a slow stroke, Peter groaning into his neck. He’s transfixed.

Stiles doesn’t even really think about it, but he’s on his knees in the space he’s made for himself between Peter’s legs, so much closer now, tugging at Peter’s pants to pull them down just that much more so he can have a bit of room to work. Not that he has a _clue_ what to do outside of porn, but regardless somewhere in his mind he deems this the appropriate action.

He wraps his hand around the base, and it’s long and thick, hot to the touch. It’s quiet though and for some reason that breaks Stiles out of whatever dick-induced haze he was in and he glances up at Peter.

Peter’s lips are slightly parted, his eyes blazing blue; Stiles can even see a hint of fang. It almost looks like Peter isn't breathing, the rise and fall of his chest so shallow.

He wonders if he’s done something wrong.

Peter must pick up on trepidation surrounding Stiles and just raises a hand to pet at Stiles’ hair, it’s nice, _sooo nice_ and Stiles starts purring as he always ends up doing when Peter is playing with his hair like this.

He doesn’t stop and neither does Peter’s hand move as he lowers his head back down, the sight before him is a little less intimidating now. There’s a shiny wetness on the tip and Stiles’ tongue runs across it, lapping it up. It’s slightly sharp and bitter on his taste buds but he doesn’t mind it at all, going back in for another taste.

Stiles licks under the head bringing his tongue up and around it, before moving down the shaft and getting everything wet, making his hand slide easier on the parts he isn't sure will fit in his mouth. Peter is groaning softly above him, still carding a hand through his hair.

He’s mindful of his teeth when he seals his lips around Peter’s cock and sucks gently, it earns him a groaning moan and a tightening pull on his hair, he purrs, satisfied that he’s affecting Peter so much. He rushes a bit, heady in the feeling of _power_ , choking as he slides too far down and comes up against his gag reflex. He has to pull off, coughing a little, and hears Peter’s ‘ _go slow sweetheart_ ’, before he can reign in his reaction and resume his chosen task.

It’s easier now, bobbing his head slowly, feeling the point where he choked before and working up to it gently. It’s not what he thought it would be like, not that he really had a clue, but he finds he likes it more than he expected.

He’s able to focus, drowning out the world around him until it’s just the velvety slide of heated flesh in his mouth; his tongue running up and down Peter’s length with the movement of his head. The rest of the world in abstract; soft tugs and pets from Peter’s hand; moans and groans and soft words of praise falling from Peter’s lips like prayer; he can smell them so clearly, Peter’s scent mixed with affection-adoration-lust and hints of love.

He gets a rhythm going of tongue and lips and the bobbing of his head, going just a little more, a little deeper, each time. For all that his focus is solely on Peter, it almost _isn't_ in a way, but he catches the words Peter’s saying when he makes himself listen.

“So good Stiles”

A groaning hum, “yeah, just like that”

“Perfect, sweetheart”

He’s entranced, blissful and ignorant of his own arousal that was threatening to consume him before. Now, that pent up frustration has washed away from him and all he wants to do is make this so _good_ for Peter.

He takes Peter deeper; past the point from earlier until he’s swallowing around him before he has to pull back some to breathe again. Peter curses, grips his hair more tightly, sharp claws pricking at his scalp, and Stiles moans around him, bringing him back down into his throat.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Stiles can see him panting above him as he finally flicks his eyes up, “you keep doing that and I’m going to come.”

Stiles just arches a brow, pulls back a little, tongue caressing the underside of his cock.

“You’re purring,” Peter says and Stiles is confused, but Peter just runs his hand through his hair again and Stiles’ eyes slip closed and with a breath through his nose goes back to what he was doing before.

“Fuck, you don’t even realize you’re doing it do you?” Peter’s voice is soft, and awed. Stiles shrugs a shoulder and continues sucking Peter off.

It’s only seems like a few moments later that Peter is tugging on Stiles’ hair again, he admits he might have been a little lost in what he was doing, but he opens his eyes again and looks up at Peter, question in his gaze.

Peter is looking slightly feral, his hair is a mess, eyes blazing, fangs out and jaw clenched.

“Darling, I’m going to come,” Peter grits out and Stiles hums at this, causing Peter to curse again, the hand in his hair pulling hard but Stiles fights the motion of Peter trying to pull him away.

He supposes it’s sweet that Peter is trying to warn him, trying to be a gentleman and letting Stiles chose what to do with that knowledge, but he finds himself _wanting_ Peter to come in his mouth, wanting the proof of his efforts on his tongue and down his throat.

He uses a bit of his strength to take Peter back into his throat and swallows around him again and that must be it, because he can feel the pulse of the cock in his mouth, the feel of come sliding down his throat, he has to pull back a bit to adjust for it but he swallows it all down and then licks the salty-bitterness from Peter’s dick before sitting back on his heels, content, satisfied, licking the remains from his lips.

The rest of his awareness is slow to come back to him but he can feel now how hard and aching he is in the confines of his pants. Peter, for all that he normally looks so put together looks absolutely _wrecked_ and Stiles feels pride swelling in his chest because _he did that_. Peter is breathing harshly, one hand gripped tight on his own thigh while the other is still carding softly through Stiles’ hair. He’ll admit to being a bit amazed at the dichotomy, and while his own situation is feeling urgent he doesn’t want to shatter the afterglow so he just rests his head on Peter’s inner thigh and nuzzles him there, pleased.

It doesn’t take long for Peter to rouse from his sex-induced stupor, and when he does he proceeds to try and show Stiles every trick of his tongue he can think of as he brings Stiles off again and again until even with Stiles’ short refractory period he can't get hard again.

The couch, however, doesn’t survive.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this installment. I definitely have more plans for this series in the future so please subscribe if you like it :) Thank you all for reading and supporting me, you all are so very lovely and awesome!! <3 <3 <3


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